


Just a Perfect Little Human Wreck

by chambers_none



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe-Zombie Apocalypse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:06:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chambers_none/pseuds/chambers_none
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Liam wanted was a gun, to defend himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Perfect Little Human Wreck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goatbutt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goatbutt/gifts), [Saralisse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saralisse/gifts).



> First of all, I know nuts about motorcycles. I had to refer to this- any blunders are obviously mine, I am incompetent. Secondly, this was supposed to be based on some book I found at a bookstore (which was on zombie apocalypses, and subsequently inspired this), but I couldn't find it again and hence you should take all of this with a grain or four thousand of salt. Thirdly, this is for Geebs (so many things are for her tbh because she's gr9), because she is lovely and always deserves things being written for her. (Yes, I know this is a WIP.) Fourthly (hang on, this is the last), many thanks to Pan for coming up with the title. I love you, SaucePan.

\---

Liam sets off, kicks the throttle into gear- Niall's already radioed ahead, informing him of clear weather. Well, until early evening anyway. Which is fine, all he needs is to visit the nearest convenience store, located only fifteen kilometres away, and get as much petrol as he can. He's been waiting for this all morning long, pushing his lumpy oats around during Sustenance, taking a longer shower. 

He's not to expect anyone- just like he hasn't been told to expect anybody (or rescue anybody, but, that's for the older Finders) for the past few months. Of course, Murphy's Law exists- vividly, in his mind, in the form of his mother. Harping on and on about at it at the kitchen island, during breakfast- Liam can see her silhouette now, busying herself over a fry up. Back then, when being late for school was something Murphy's Law usually referred to.

He tries not to think about it too much- the memory, for some reason, stands out clearly, and he doesn't want to think about it. It's been nearly a year since the Changed destroyed everything, and even longer since the memory was made, but it's startling fresh and pains him to think of it. He still sort of remembers his mum, before she Changed- blonde hair she always tucked behind her ear, big toothy smile. Peach coloured skin.

He misses her. He misses her so badly. Everyone does of course- a loved one who was Changed is nothing short of painful. But they don't think about it, because there's no advantage or reason for it. It doesn't bring them back. It doesn't put food on the table and clothes on their backs and gives them another bleak day of survival, with the depressing knowledge that they've made it where the others haven't. The ones who do, go mad. 

He doesn't want to go mad, he doesn't. Doesn't want to end up like the Runners, who leave homebase and run off into the wild, into the Outside, driven mad by memories and depression and belief in conspiracy theories. Because there are some, out there, which Liam hopes with all his heart isn't true: that the Changed were created by governments themselves, as part of a big scheme to earn profit. That the Future was earning.

You never spoke of this openly, of course: The Future was supposedly the biggest colony in the United Kingdom at the moment, and Homebase, where a population of a pitiful three thousand lived, was the safest for now.

It's been months since the Changed changed everything, and while maybe at the beginning there were Stragglers, survivors living on their own outside the protection of The Future, Liam found that hard to believe now. Now the Outside was bleak and harsh, void of colour and people. There were actual tumbleweeds, for god's sake. The Changed roamed around freely, usually in huge numbers. Without anything short of bomb Liam doubted anyone could survive out there alone. The few roads that remained usable were barren and dangerous- many were blocked by broken down vehicles; cars with their insides gutted, burnt down pick up trucks, ravaged station wagons. Motorcycles lay in a heap and the barricades that had been set up at first to quarantine the virus, were dusty. Everything seemed out of reach now- the Outside was dangerous, and that's why they all needed The Future.

It was worse, somehow, riding a motorcycle, because Liam essentially had no protection whatsoever. Sure, he moved fast. But the numbers of the Changed were astounding, and there was always a possibility of swarming him, blocking access to the roads. He feels vulnerable, always. But being a Finder (although now more accurately the term would be a Salvager, because that's all he ever did) was the only way you got some freedom.

It was nearly an hour before he reached the dilapidated Shell; windows bashed in, the hole ominous and looming at him, framed by jagged glass spikes. Most of the goods had already been looted, of course (either by The Future's Finders or other stragglers, but that was months ago), but he still needed petrol. He had an empty one-litre bottle and his own engine- but of course, there was very little. He was suprised there was any, even. People had grown desperate after the Changed: it was like watching a bad dystopian movie. Crowds gone manic and barricades set up on expressways. He still remembers the protesters outside his own town's hospital. Angry, angry people people waving signs at closed windows; yelling, more yelling. Always yelling.

It hurt his ears. Louis, whom he had made it to The Future's homebase with his two sisters and Louis' mum, had given him a hug then, soothing words whispered in his ears. Liam feels stupid, for not foreseeing everything that had happened. But Louis, Louis had. Louis with his brow etched in worry the last few weeks- it was like he had known every detail of the upcoming apocalypse. Losing his entire family save his mother, being punished for loving a boy. Louis probably hurt more than Liam did- he only had lost his parents, and he feels so guilty for not suffering as much. Sure, he had lost a girl too, but that was The Council's decision- Danielle was to be with another man, more suited for her. And he still got to see her- if he walked past the only hospital two hours after sundown, he could see, through the gap in the curtains, her busying over paperwork. On Wednesdays they even shared the same Sustenance timeslot.

The Future was safe, but it was strict. It had formed long ago, complete with rules and regulations and policies to follow. You lost your citizenship if you didn't abide by them, and losing your citizenship was putting yourself at the mercy of the Changed. Louis, his poor Louis, whom he had known since he was ten and had been best friends with ever since, had lost so much. And as reckless as he was, he could never leave his only family member behind. There was always a chance that Jay could get punished as well.

And Louis couldn't afford that.

Sometimes Liam feels terrible for introducing Harry to Louis, and Louis to Harry. But then he remembers them, and what they had- discreet hand holding in the Mess Hall, while waiting for grub; kisses sneaked in during Labour, never mind the fertilizer stained shirts after fertilizer stained hands grabbed at them; adoring pining looks, and sweet gestures like giving each other their favourite desserts; sneaking out after Curfew to read bedtime stories to each other.

Liam has always been jealous of them, wants what they have. Perhaps Danielle wasn't fated, but he's still young, he likes to think. For now though, he passes messages for them, and everytime he starts feeling horrible and guilty again, Louis smiles at him, his best crinkly-eyed "It's okay" smile. "It's alright," he'll soothe, and Liam will lie his head down on Louis' shoulder.

He tries not to think too much of that- Harry, who usually went on this Finding trips (they were a joke now, of course- you never Found anything, really), was absent. The lack of curls brushing his neck and intermitten bad puns and just the smell of Harry was disturbing.

He doesn't want to think of Harry, who is tasked with several hours of Labour today instead of his usual Finding, because he loved a boy.

He doesn't want to think of Louis, who is having lovely girls they all know- Eleanor from Textures and Hannah from Nursery- forced on him, because he loved a boy.

The Future; or rather, the Council that governed it, had a point: homosexuals could not reproduce. They needed as many people as they could right now, what with the estimated world population in ten thousands. Liam had heard of other colonies, but they were smaller and further away. Outside homebase, there was nobody left. So yes, homosexual relationships weren't allowed, for the good of mankind. But personally, Liam thought it was harsh and cruel.

Liam heads straight to the petrol station that borders the convenience store, leather boots thudding against cracked pavement. He's wearing actual leather boots, like a character in a music video or a movie or something. Liam hopes it ends soon, or has a happy ending at least.

The petrol drips steadily, there's barely enough for the bottle though. During the short wait Liam taps his foot absentmindedly, the beat echoing off vandalized pillars. There's a sudden rustle, and Liam freezes. Fuck. He's already forgotten the first rule of survival, already- don't attract any attention to yourself. He's forgotten to be quiet- without Harry to remind he's forgotten. Liam's muscles tense, and he slowly slides a hand into his back pocket. There's a serrated knife he carries around with him everywhere; the grip of the handle is familiar, and comforts him, slightly. He wishes he had a gun, but they're hard to come by and often go to those on patrol duty. They're more well-stocked in America, apparently, but that's just a rumour- and why is he not concentrating?

Idiot.

He tries to slip into combat mode: feet slightly apart, arms braced. He reminds himself of what he knows of the Changed, what he can use against them. The Changed are abundant, because the only way to stop them is to kill them entirely. They don't feel, and don't stop until they're brain dead. They don't need oxygen, so shooting them in the heart is about as useful as shooting them in the leg. Aim for the head, Liam reminds himself.

He's got a good aim, but only one knife: if there is more than one Changed, he's screwed. Liam takes a steady breath, tries hard to listen. Of course, that only reminds him of the Changed's heightened senses: smell, hearing, sight. They don't feel anything at all, no pain no nothing, which of course only gives them added advantage. Liam curses the virus that started it all.

Another sound, and Liam turns around so fast he hears his bones crack. His heart is pounding, beads of perspiration gathered at his temple.

"Who's there?" he shouts, voice nearly breaking. Of course, the Changed can't talk, communicating only through a mishmash of groans and grunts, as well as hand gestures and body language no one can decipher. The best way to defeat your enemy is to know your enemy (or something like that), but the world had already lost before the battle even properly begun. The virus responsible for the Change spread quickly, and incubated in the victim's body for 23 hours- all the while people thought to be comatose, dropping like flies all over the world, woke up suddenly hungry for- Liam doesn't know what, exactly. The Changed don't eat people, like they do in B grade horror movies, but they all seem intent on wiping out the human population. Very little could be gleaned from the Changed, and Liam only had his knowledge of weaponry and the basics of the Changed to keep him safe.

He sees a blur of movement- odd, it was a brownish blur, the Changed usually were a sickly white and they don't move that fast- when a cry of "Stop! No, wait!" halts him.

The Changed don't speak. They don't ever speak, unable to enunciate proper words. Liam nearly falls over.

When he turns to his right, he sees the person behind the voice: a boy, about his age, with a little girl beside him. His sister, probably- the pair have the same (beautiful) features- tanned skin and big brown eyes that look at him warily and long lashes. They're covered in grime, and an assortment of bruises and cuts adorn their skin.

Suddenly, another girl pops up, breathless. She's older than the youngest, but with the same features. Another sister then. Good. If he could persuade them to follow him to homebase, the Council would be glad. The Future preferred to take in families, no matter how broken- Liam remembers the terrible days when they could hear wails of anguish of the people not allowed inside. Perhaps they might even reward him- he could ask for Louis and Harry to be left alone. Or a gun. A gun would be useful too. She stays behind her brother, eyeing him distrustfully. 

"Yo- you're not the Changed," she blurts out- she's younger than the boy, still young enough to say things without a filter. Her eyes widen, embarassed, but Liam's own are riveted by the boy's Adam's apple bobbing.

"I- we- we heard an engine. And then, we didn't want to approach, we usually don't, because," here the boy pauses, and Liam nods, because he understands too. The people who haven't Changed, have changed. They're desperate, and violent. Strangers who aren't Changed are still dangerous.

He nods a second time, hopes it comes across as encouraging, when the boy hasn't continued. "But, you. You were only a teenager, and like. We were wondering. There was a chance. So, we. Agreed to.. risk it." The last part is said softly, almost inaudibly. A pause, as if the boy doesn't want to continue. But he does, "And you haven't killed us yet. So."

The entire time the boy was talking, he's been looking down or away. Liam tries not to look like he's studying the shadows the boy's eyelashes create. But now the boy looks up, and his mouth is a worried line, his eyes desperate. "We need help."

Liam nods briskly. "Of course." He doesn't look again, because it's rude, but he remembers the condition they're in. "I'm Liam."

He holds out his hand, and the boy- "Zayn," he introduces himself softly- shakes it. "This is Wahliya and Safaa."

"Hello girls," he greets but they only stare back at him, and Liam can only think of the word soullessly to describe it. He feels angry, angry at the virus, angry at it for taking away his parents, for taking away children's innocence. He wants to smother it to death, burn it to the ground, drown in a vat of boiling acid, stab it again and again.

Finally, the little girl- Safaa- speaks. "Hi," her voice is musical and light. "Are you going to help us?"

He nods quickly. "Of course. Of course! But... I have no supplies or anything that can help you now." 

The boy- Zayn- lowers his eyes, and Safaa looks close to bursting to tears. "But I can take you to Homebase," he adds quickly. "That is, if you want."

The second girl, Wahliya, looks at him. Emotions are scattered across her face, but when Liam looks at her closely, she masks herself, forcing her pretty features into cold hard unblinking stone. She's grown up, Liam thinks sadly. She can't trust anymore. There are no more children here, only survivors, sisters and brothers who have seen and known too much.

"Where is homebase?" Wahliya asks coolly. Liam doesn't miss that she stands up straighter, jaw set, fingers dancing on a gun holster.

Then Liam realises what he's seeing. Gun! Now he needs to bring them back, The Future could always use more arms. 

He feels the other two siblings watching him- Zayn expressionless, Safaa with curiosity. He takes a breath, doesn't want to mess this up.

"About 15 kilometres north of here, thereabouts. It's a colony of people- we've got a small hospital and school set up for people under 20, and farms. There are bunks in these little houses- it's kind of Amish, but families can live together. Everyone except those on current guard duty eat in the Mess Hall together. We call ourselves The Future, because that's what we are, what we want to be. It's- it's run by this group called the Council, people who make decisions for us, but it's alright, really. Mostly we work at where we're assigned to, or go to school. Or, like, if you want, you take on patrol duty. Um."

Liam stops, unsure of what else to say. "And it's safe?" Zayn queries, hesitant.

Of course, what an idiot he is. They want to know whether it's safe- it's a miracle they've lasted this long. Liam nods a small nod. "Yeah. It's safe."

Zayn regards him with an almost smile, the corners of his lips turned up just slightly. Barely. But his eyes are bright now, adrenaline and excitement and relieved. "Is there anywhere we can fit on your bike? All of us? We. We don't have any transport, we've been travelling by foot."

Liam smiles grimly at him, though his eyes are carefree, he imagines. "We can try," he says, reaching the walkie talkie on his bike.

"Hey, Niall. I found some people. Two sisters and their brother."

\---

Somehow, despite it all, they manage to fit. Sure, it's a squeeze, but all of them are on the bike and on the way to homebase. Safaa grips the handles along with Liam, Wahliya hugging his stomach and Zayn right behind her. The wind is cold and bitter, and the Maliks, Liam learns have very few posessions. A battered rucksack containing food cans, precious family photographs he doesn't ask to look at, and half a bottle of water. Week old clothes that they haven't the resources to clean. 2 guns.

The wind is nipping at their necks and noses now, more cold and harsh and biting. Liam grits his teeth and tries to ensconce Safaa as best as he can, bending low so the majority of the cold hits him. The little girl is probably freezing, teeth chattering already, and around him Wahliya's hands are shaking. Zayn is silent, however. 

It seems that the further they ride the colder it gets. Winter is still long away, autumn's just set in, but that doesn't change the fact that it seems their arms could all drop off any moment now. Then Liam realises why. Far away, almost indiscernible among the grey everything, a storm is coming. Visibility is getting poorer- goosebumps rejoice along his arms even though well covered. He wants to slow down, it isn't safe to drive anymore. Liam turns to Zayn, whose face is void of colour, teeth clenched fiercely. Craning his neck, he tries to shout his intentions, but the wind swallows all sound.

"I'M GOING TO SLO-"

and then he stops talking, because his front wheel meets something and they all skid haphazardly, and crash. The last thing Liam remembers is the sickening crunch of something, and what he supposes is Zayn's warm weight.

\---

When Liam wakes, the sky is grey. Greyer. 

That is the first thing he notices, in his disoriented state. He struggles to get up, but someone weighs heavily atop of him, and he feels too weak and tired and confused to put in much effort. Finally a shove, and a boy- Zayn!- rolls off.

"Nguuh." There's a grunt as Zayn's elbow meets the hard packed cold ground, and a hiss. Then suddenly Zayn half-kneels, half-stands up so quickly Liam is startled. The other boy seems to be jolted awake, and his eyes are wide, zooming quickly to Liam. 

"Where are my sisters?" Zayn demands, almost growls, and Liam snaps awake. Safaa and Wahliya! He had forgotten about them. Then he remembers- praying to whatever God up there, if He did exist, that it wasn't someone's sickening crunch he heard before passing out. He turns to see that God hasn't listened, if there was a God. Because looking right there, where Wahliya's head is slumped next to a sprawling tree root, hair a matted mess of blood, it's hard to believe. 

"Fuck. Wahliya!" Zayn screams, the sound torn from his throat, a ghostly rattle accompanying it. Liam wonders how many sisters or brothers he's lost.

He scampers from his position beside Liam, to his little sister who couldn't have been more than thirteen, hands going immediately to cradle protectively around her. Liam's stomach is a pit of horrible, horrible guilt, bottoming out so that he feels like he's going to puke. He whispers her name almost in reverence, in horror. 

He feels dead.

Liam crawls to where the two siblings are, but Zayn shoos him away. "Safaa," he croaks by way of explanation, and the pair immediately scan for the youngest Malik. Liam spots her first, where she is curled half-on-the-bike, half-crushed-below. The motorcycle looks battered, but still thankfully operatable. When he shifts to dislodge her tangled limbs from the handlebars, she snaps awake. Her eyes are round and terrified. Then she relaxes, tension leaving her shoulders and brows when she sees Liam. He sighs, relieved. 

Craning his neck to check on Zayn, he feels Safaa wrestling away from him, body going rigid. Zayn's unable to wake Wahliya, and Liam feels. He feels helpless. He feels like a brute, just staring at Zayn cry loud ragged breaths, tears making his face even more grimy, sobs wracking his body. But then he's forced to pay more attention to the little girl when Safaa starts getting more restless. 

"What is it, Safaa?" he asks, but when he looks down at her her eyes are even more round and terrified than before. Her mouth is open in an 'O'.

"The Changed," she whispers, trembling finger pointing to behind Liam. This time, when she struggles, Liam lets her go.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine, feel free to point them out. This started from me posting all of this on Twitter, tweet by tweet, you can follow me @frenchthebug. Cross-posted from LJ, and if there are any requests I might just continue this because I just want to fic dump it here tbh.


End file.
